#msspphire

SCHOOLDAYS

Schooldays are a garden growing wild

Bushy shrubs busy in a playful child

A mansion with many rooms, a palace

For a game of chess set up in good pace

Be the pawn prince calling the shot

Just need a pen, paper and an ink pot.

Write well and please the school master

Lie true to him, confess all to the pastor

Polish the chalice shiny for holy wine

Kneel at the altar, pray sweetly divine

Help the good padre run his godly race

In confession box take his priestly place.

Hear the sins of ones not so my friends

Hold them at ransom, favors without end

Siphon donations from the church retreats

Give the hungry and beggars a fuller treat

Kind to the vagrants and the poor dullards

Out of school to roam, well remembered.

Strict but humble is the school master

Striding along with his feather duster

Tilted tipsy house on stilts he duly resides

To ward off the flooding from the riverside

His stern look portrays his predicted mood

Good humor when he is out of the woods.

Learned poetry he drills by wits and skill

Reciting three hundred verses for the kill

Honorably well, swells me on to persevere

Respect sweeps my breast to fully endear

Stern, bent hot on hell but he is truly kind

Firm discipline begets a future in mind.

It hurts him harshly pushing us to the slog

Result speaks for itself as an obedient dog

A short man with the fullest head I know

An encyclopedic library therein to show

A true mentor even to a truant untold

A fine example of love that I duly enfold.

I remember an event when I was in great distress. I had been terribly upset by reports I read regarding corruptions in the government, lies, greed, denial and clever manipulations. I set about hurriedly scribbling a nasty accusative essay on my immediate thoughts and feelings.

I was about to send it by fax to the parties concerned when suddenly, I felt an inner surge of calmness - having written that letter, rising from within, followed by a pleasant memory of my childhood days, being born, raised and studied in Kuching, Sarawak (East Malaysia). I felt an overwhelming emotion of love. It was like there was a sudden change of guards all around me.

I sat back down to write again, pouring out my true grief and sorrow, spilling my true feelings of anguish and frustration and inking it on paper, transferring every thought in mind and soul onto a piece of writing pad. It is hard to explain the sudden change of emotion, from rage to collective concern over something that was important to me. However, the original rage was gone.

The result was this poem:

FAREWELL TO HARMONY

- by J. P. Lee

O fair land of bliss, birth place that helped groom my fragile youth ,

Of tales better remembered than sermons on unspoken truth,

Where poor emigrants had mingled well with the hornbills and the natives.

Alas! From afar, rich explorers arrived to rule and lord over their lives,

Plundering fields and habitat, cursing the blessed harmony.

Wounded, the sacred ground bled and moaned in loathsome agony,

Paving the way for the rise of a brand new breed

To overthrow this folly of pure foreign greed.

But history shall repeat itself, sadly I must say,

For the rule is no better today than yesterday.

Rivers of greed, bribery and deceit still meander and burrow;

Bends and hidden tunnels have replaced the straight and narrow.

Prejudice and Power now possess the upper hand;

Fairness and Equality have vanished from the land.

Remembrance sweeps my mind to console my heaving breast;

Fond memories freeze my grief, comfort and put my pain to rest.

Near yonder bend on rocky road stood the sturdy devoted school,

That taught the virtues of saints and values of man-made rules.

Discipline and obligation had not known exception;

Truants and the disobedient must bear the rod of correction.

Constant prayer and hard work - its motto shall remain

Unchanged, to ascend the rugged path towards future gain.

Sports and athletics had carved endurance with sharpened strength,

To hurdle obstacles, to conquer heights, by width and by length.

It was the standard then and pray today is still the practice

To endow in Hope with fortitude, be one learned or apprentice.

Yet be not like the charging train but a constant contemplative,

Never to plunge head-on to desire but be wisely imaginative.

I had been there, unnoticed, apprehensive but not fearful.

In silence did I perceive the true lesson and learn to be grateful

For what I have become today in spirit, body and mind